


hand to now

by humanveil



Category: Prison Break
Genre: M/M, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 19:44:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13554282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanveil/pseuds/humanveil
Summary: If Michael is honest, it starts with Alex’s hands.





	hand to now

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: Tremble, 500 word max.

If Michael is honest, this fascination, desire, whatever--it’d started with Alex’s hands.

Sona, first, where they’d shaken with withdrawal, where Michael had watched him across the courtyard, body framed in shades of red, brown, orange. Where fingers had picked at skin, the short nails lined with dirt. He’d been fascinated, then, at how they’d trembled, at how Alex had curled them into fists, wrapped them around each other; a futile effort to stop the shaking, to hide it. He hadn’t been able to, not from Michael, not when Michael spent so much time _watching._

It’s the same thing now, here. In the warehouse. Michael watches and Alex pretends not to notice, and Michael pretends not to notice _that_ \--like a back and forth, an unspoken rule. It’s how they seem to operate, unspoken rules, unspoken conversations. Codes and cryptographs, little messages no one else ever picks up on. Michael thinks that perhaps there are some things they should say, that there are real discussions that need to be had, but there is no fun in that, no challenge, no point when Alex can already read him like an open book, when he can do the same. No point when Michael prefers it this way: covert, secretive. _Intimate._

Besides, it’s easier to watch from across the room than it is speak, to confess what he really wants. Easier to see Alex’s hands shiver, shake, tremble, to mentally catalogue the emotion that leaks from every involuntary movement than it is to ask, to inquire. Easier to pretend he’s fine with this thing they have, this _almost_ , than it is so consider what it means if he isn’t.

It’s the phone call that changes things, the slight tremor in Alex’s voice as it filters through the receiver. It hits Michael then that he can’t leave him, that he doesn’t want to, that he needs this, him, them.

Alex says he doesn’t care why he did it, but Michael does, and he wants Alex to, too. He stands with him, later, once it’s all done, once the others have retreated to their bunks, once it’s just the two of them and the darkened sky, the cold, crisp wind over the dock. He has every intention of talking, of explaining himself, but the words don’t come. All he manages is a name, is _Alex…_ and it’s not enough, not what he wants, but Alex turns to him all the same, his eyes clear, bright, shimmering with thinly veiled hunger, and Michael gets it. This moment, it’s pivotal, is what they’ve been waiting for, is something that’s been building for weeks.

Alex reaches for him, his hands warm and rough and more than Michael had ever dared to imagine, and it’s wonderful, beautiful, _overwhelming_. Fingers curl around his neck, pull him forward, until Alex can capture his mouth with his own, and it takes the breath right out of Michael, has him reaching, clinging, succumbing to desire in the way he’d wanted to: wholly, completely.


End file.
